Haruko 春子
by SomeknowmeasXeno
Summary: Japan, 1622. It is the Edo period and a lone ronin roams Japan in search of purpose in a world she now resents. Her Muramasa blade is her only comfort in the cold world. Blood-shed is the only thing she knows anymore. It may be a period of peace for the most part, but bandits and yokai still plague the lands. Will this broken woman fight for those who cannot fight for themselves?


[Japan, Kansai region]

[Edo period, 1622]

* * *

It was mid-day: the sun was shining as it hung above in the clear skies, birds taking flight from the treetops as a lone woman walked down a dirt pathway leading through an old forest. A cool breeze blew through the forest, blowing past her and making her jet-black hair, styled in a short bob cut with a parting at the front that cut down the middle, flow backwards in its gentle current. The dirt crunched beneath her feet with each step. Her left arm rested upon the kashira (buttcap) of the katana sheathed on her left side, the blade held within a black saya (scabbard) with the red sageo (cord) tied around her waist. The tsuka (handle) wrapped in black leather with the circular tsuba (guard) plated in gold. The blade was facing downwards. The woman came to a halt. Everything was quiet as she drifted her left eye around, its pupil a light blue. A black, metal eye patch covered the woman's right eye. A cross-shaped scar resided on her left cheek. A white headband was wrapped around her forehead. She was also wearing a grayish-blue warrior's kimono and a dull brown samurai hakama, with a deep red kusazuri with gold details around her waist. Silver vagrant's kote with brown cloth wraps on the upper halves were worn on here forearms and silver vagrant's waraji with brown sandals on her feet. Her eye narrowed as she observed her surroundings. She moved her left hand onto her katana's saya, moving the scabbard and sheathed blade a little bit forward. Nothing. Not a thing stirred. A few more seconds passed but still nothing, the woman easing up and dropping back into a less-cautious stance: but still she kept her katana at the ready. The woman pressed on, walking off down the pathway... completely aware that as soon as she started walking off, a couple of bandits had snuck out of the bushes and were but a few feet behind her. The duo pulled out their tantōs from their worn sayas. The woman came to a halt yet again. She glanced over her left shoulder and her gaze met the bandits' own. Her white headband flowing to her side in the wind. A deadly silence fell between the woman and the bandits. The wind howled as they stared down. The two bandits adopted battle stances with their tantōs in hand. The woman pushed her blade out of its sheath very slightly with a flick from her left thumb to the tsuba: the blade shining brilliantly in the sun's light. The woman reached for her katana, wrapping her right hand around its handle and drawing it from its saya before holding it out to her right side. The wind howled as it blew past the woman.

"This is a Muramasa blade..." The woman spoke up, informing the bandits of the katana's origin. She spoke in a cold, distant tone: her lone eye staring into the souls of the bandits. It to was cold and distant... but yet there was an unsettling nature about it, as if it was hiding something. "It has been told that once drawn, a Muramasa blade has to draw blood before it can be returned to its scabbard, even to the point of forcing its wielder to wound themself or commit suicide. Thus, it is thought of as a demonic, cursed blade that creates bloodlust in those who wield it..." The woman turned around to face the two. The bandits reaffirmed their stance. "But I don't need this blade's bloodlust to despise your filth."

"A talker, hey? Humph. Even with a blade like that by her side, it is dangerous for a woman to travel alone in these parts..." The bandit on her left responded.

"You sure you know how to use that thing?" The 2nd remarked. They were a cocky pair, obviously new to the life of a brigand.

"It's my only source of comfort... especially when I use it to kill worms of your kind." The woman retorted, bluntly. An evil twinkle was in her eye.

"You think yourself as some kind of dispenser of justice...? Is that it?" The 1st asked.

"No... just a wanderer who kills filth like you two."

"Let's test your resolve then, woman, let's see if you really do know how to use that thing." The 2nd followed up.

"You'll find out when I carve you to pieces and leave you to the wolves." The woman spoke with a sadistic pleasure: adopting her own battle stance whereby she moved her right leg behind her left, took on a bent-knees posture and placed both hands on the hilt of her katana and angled the blade towards the duo.

* * *

The scarred woman walked through the gateway leading into a small rural village. Her katana sheathed once more in its saya and her left arm resting on its kashira once again. As she walked into the village, passing by a machiya on her right and a water well to her left as she continued by, her gaze fell upon a trio of male villagers hastily trying to acquire as much gold from an unconscious miner laid out on the dirt ground as fast as they could before a patrolling samurai might have come about. The miner had fainted from exhaustion only a few minutes prior. As they pocketed gold piece after gold piece, the woman walked on by and all three jumped to the side out of fear. They almost mistook her for a samurai. But she paid them no heed and continued walking past.

"A ronin...?" One of them muttered. The woman overhead him but continued to pay no heed, walking on and ever further away from the trio.

"What would that woman be doing with a blade...?" The 3rd inquired, the 2nd shrugging in response. As the trio studied her curiously whilst she walked away, they failed to notice a samurai had indeed walked up on them: standing to their side as they remained unaware.

"What is this?!" The samurai's voice boomed out, rough and irritated. The villagers jumped back, screaming from fear as they turned to see the angry man clad in sage armour before them.

"Peasants..." The woman muttered to herself as she continued on, deeper into the village, a man pushing a small wooden cart passing on by her left.

* * *

The scarred woman stepped into the village bar, the lighting inside dim and leaving most of the building's interior obscured: What little light there was being provided by the odd lantern here and there. Making her way to the bar and taking a seat upon an old wooden stool, the stool was rather worn from use but still comfortable enough to sit upon, the woman went to order a round of sake for herself. Pulling out a small bag full of Tokugawa coinage the woman made her order, keeping her head down the entire time, taking out the fee for a single bottle of sake. The barkeep took the payment and passed the woman her sake after taking a bottle off of the shelf behind him.

"Quite strange to see an armed woman that's not of a shinobi clan..." The barkeep commented. The woman took a swig of her sake before responding.

"If you see a shinobi, then they're not very good at their job." She remarked.

"Where you from then, traveller?" The barkeep inquired.

"Why you asking?" The woman looked up at the man whilst still keeping her head down, her lone left eye staring coldly at him as she shot him a glare. He was a middle-aged guy, had a mass of stubble around his face and his tired green eyes gave off a welcoming look to the man: who had a small scar on his chin and a bit of a beer-belly with graying, unkempt hair on his head.

"I like to know my tenants..." The barkeep shrugged non-chalently.

"You don't wanna know me." The woman took a 2nd swig of her sake, looking back to the bar side.

"Well, I can at least tell you've been through hell... that much is obvious. So, what's a young woman like yourself doing wandering Japan? You got a wanderer's look about you." The barkeep continued as he passed a bottle of sake to another customer a few seats away from the woman.

"I'm looking for someone... honing my skills... you don't wanna know what else I do." A 3rd swig. She was tiring quick of the conversation but had at least enough manners to not completely ignore him.

"I've most likely heard worse, though not from a woman..."

"Appearances can be deceiving." The woman retorted, looking back to the bar keep.

"You're a wandering warrior... you ain't that deceiving." The barkeep chuckled.

"Humph... I'm no warrior, just an armed woman with a penchant for killing bandits... or anything else that gets in my way." The woman corrected.

"Sounds like you're a warrior to me."

"No, warrior's have honor. I don't. I'm just another stranger passing on through... and a stranger i'll remain." The woman shot the barkeep a look. She had finished her sake. She passed the payment for another bottle. The barkeep nodded.

"It was rude of me to impose." The barkeep responded.

"Don't apologise... just keep the drinks coming and I'll be gone soon enough." The woman returned to staring at the bar once more.

"Can you handle it? Your sake? Because some of the men here will take any opportunity to..." The barkeep inquired, reaching for another bottle, but the woman cut him off.

"To die?" The woman took hold of her katana's saya, looking behind herself at the other occupants of the bar: each one immediately looking in any other direction but hers, cowering from her steely gaze.

"At least you have a sense of humour..." The barkeep passed her the 2nd bottle of sake. She took hold and then the 1st swig. A fly buzzed past her left ear and landed upon the bar side, right in front of her.

"I don't." The woman placed the bottle back on the bar: crushing the fly.


End file.
